


i've got time.

by peppermintcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10.03 coda, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2496674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintcas/pseuds/peppermintcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s terrified. This is terrifying. He’s never fallen for someone so fleeting, so impermanent, so different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've got time.

“Well, you, on the other hand—looking good.” The words escape from Dean’s mouth, tugging a smile at the corner of his lips, drawing one from Castiel’s. They come out soft, more confessional than he’d bargained for in the half darkness of his room, and Dean swallows. Hopes Cas gets what he really means.

“So, you’re back?” he asks.

“At least temporarily.” Castiel is closer than he thought. The words are loud in the small space they’ve carved out with each other- in each other. “It’s a—” Cas falters—“a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” Dean whispers, and it feels like a promise.

They stare at each other. There’s something—something tangible, with them, there always has been. Like fire, at first, rage and fear and something hot licking at Dean’s gut, around his shoulders, blood pounding his veins. Then it settled—cooled into something warm and reassuring, a spark that refused to leave. It’s there now, flaring up between them. Sending Dean’s heart thudding against his ribcage.

Cas is watching him. Cas is _here_.

So he takes the only course of action he knows, really, along this uncertain path, and he leans forward _just ever so slightly_ , and Cas is closing his eyes and exhaling, and his mouth is open. Dean meets him halfway.

And _oh_ —it’s both exactly like he’s imagined and nothing like he’s ever dreamed of. It’s Cas, it’s _Cas_ , the familiar moue of his lips against Dean’s, the scrape of his stubble. He brings his hands up to Cas’s face and holds it, cradles his jaw, threading his hand through the soft locks of hair, slides his hand to the nape of Cas’s neck and kisses, soft and gentle and uncertain, into his mouth. He’s terrified. This is terrifying. He’s never fallen for someone so fleeting, so impermanent, so different. Dean is treading unfamiliar waters, here, and he feels like he’s drowning.

But if it’s Cas he’s drowning for, he would gladly accept it.

Castiel makes a soft sound in the very back of his throat when they start backing up, instinctively, pressing up against Dean’s bedroom wall. Cas is warm, Cas is here, and Dean can do this now, he can wind his fingers in Cas’s hair and tip his face back, kiss below the curve of his lower lip, mouth at his jaw. He can do this. There’s nothing stopping him now. He’s cured, he’s free—nothing is keeping him from pressing his face to the column of Cas’s throat, from kissing Cas and loving him.

Except—well, a lot of things.

But they can figure it out. They always have.


End file.
